XX 
LIFE OF WILSON. 
an uncommon friendship, and continued without the least abatement until sev- 
ered by death. Here it was that Wilson found himself translated, if we may 
so speak, into a new existence. He had long been a lover of the works of 
Nature, and had derived more happiness from the contemplation of her simple 
beauties than from any other source of gratification. But he had hitherto 
been a mere novice ; he was now about to receive instructions from one whom 
the experience of a long life, spent in travel and rural retirement, had rendered 
qualified to teach. Mr. Bartram soon perceived the bent of his friend's mind, 
and its congeniality to his own ; and took every pains to encourage him in a 
study which, while it expands the faculties, and purifies the heart, insensibly 
leads to the contemplation of the glorious Author of Nature himself. From 
his youth Wilson had been an observer of the manners of birds; and, since his 
arrival in America, he had found them objects of uncommon interest; but he 
had not yet viewed them with the eye of a naturalist. 
Mr. Bartram possessed some works on natural history, particularly those of 
Catesby and Edwards. Wilson perused them attentively ; and found himself 
enabled, even with Jn's slender stock of information, to detect errors and ab- 
surdities into which these authors had fallen from a defective mode of study- 
ing Nature : a mode which, while it led them to the repositories of dried skins 
and preparations and to a reliance on hearsay evidence, subjected them to the 
imputation of ignorance, which their lives, devoted to the cultivation and pro- 
motion of science, certainly would not justify. Wilson's improvement was 
now rapid ; and the judicious criticisms which he made on the above-mentioned 
authors gratified his friend and instructor, who redoubled his encouraging as- 
sistance, in order to further him in a pursuit for which his genius, now begin- 
ning to develop itself, was evidently fitted. 
" To Mr. William Duncan. 
" Gray's Ferry, October 30tb, 1802. 
" Dear Billy. 
" I was favored with your despatches a few hours ago, through the kind- 
ness of Colonel Sullivan, who called on me for that purpose. I have read and 
re-read, over and over again, their contents ; and shall devote the remainder of 
this evening to reply to you, and the rest of the family, now joint tenants of 
the woods. By the arrival of John F. here, in August last, I received one 
letter from my brother David, one from Thomas W. and one for Alexander 
from David Wilson ; and last week another packet arrived from Belfast, con- 
taining one letter from your father to myself ; and to your mother, brother 
and brother-in-law, and yourself, one each, all of which I have herewith sent, 
and hope they may amuse a leisure hour. F. has been wofully disappointed in 
the expectations he had formed of his uncle. Instead of being able to assist 
him, he found him in the depth of poverty; and fast sinking under a severe 
fever ; probably the arrival of a relation contributed to his recovery ; he is 
now able to crawl about. F. has had one child born and buried since his 
arrival. He weaves with Robertson, but neither likes the situation nor em- 
ployment. He is a stout, active and ingenious fellow, can turn his hand to 
almost anything, and wishes as eagerly to get up to the lakes as ever a saint 
